Empty Cry Of A Fallen Lady Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

No one cares for her cry,
The one of those with large breasts,
Even if anybody seems to symphathise,
It's fake looking for a chance to bulldose, to try.

Whatever the problem is,
Time for her is money with which,
She needs to buy oxygen forgetting her much loved skin,
This being the only choice let alone dating disease.

Her very existence is chained within chains,
None cares if she breathes or dies in untranslatable pains.